


Katara Knows Best

by kashicanhaz



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domtara, Explicit Consent, F/M, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Married Sex, Pegging? Sorta?, Shameless Smut, Smut, Waterbending & Waterbenders, Waterbending During Sex, We'll say pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashicanhaz/pseuds/kashicanhaz
Summary: Ruling a nation is stressful business, and lately the pressure's been getting to Zuko.Lucky for him, Katara knows just the thing to relieve it.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Katara Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ajstyling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajstyling/gifts).



> For ajstyling. Please never shut up about the practical applications of bending during sex.  
> Many thanks to goldilocks23 for the beta!  
> And for the rest of you, please enjoy these _softest_ of Domtara crumbs.

Katara knows what her husband looks like when he needs her.

Not the usual need, the one that comes from tenderness or intimacy. She knows that need as well, but that’s not what he looks like now. It’s like she can see the headache straining behind his eyes, the way the stress sets his teeth on edge. Politics are rotten work, eroding the composure of the body they occupy. Her husband’s body. His magnificent, spellbinding body.

He’s practically absent at dinner, so caught up in his thoughts that he barely says a word. This is not a good sign; she knows from years of experience that there will be consequences for letting him get this wrapped up in something, if one of them doesn’t pull him out of it. And even though she has all the faith in the world in him, she knows he won’t pull himself out of this spiral.

No matter. She doesn’t mind the work.

She finds him later that evening, at an hour too early for bed and too late for anything else. He’s bent over his desk, a pile of budgetary scrolls threatening to bury him under the weight of their figures. It’s a policy that’s dear to him, something important about which the more conservative members of his government are fighting him, but she knows that a couple more hours in the state he’s in won’t do him any good.

“Darling,” she purrs, stroking her fingertips down his spine. “I think you ought to come to bed.”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a thumb. “I can’t, Katara. I’m so sorry,” he says, and it almost sounds like a whine. “This has to have my full attention until it’s done.”

She chills the air around them just slightly, enough to take the edge off the feverish intensity of his focus, and cards her fingers through his hair. He shudders a sigh at her touch, closing his eyes and leaning into it for a second. The peace it brings to his face is enough to confirm her suspicions, and she wants to crow with delight to see it there.

“I know, Zuko,” she says softly, continuing to stroke his hair with cooled fingers, “but in my medical opinion, you’d do yourself better by getting a little extra rest.”

He chuckles, the sound coming from low in his chest. “Oh, in your medical opinion, is it?”

“Mm,” she hums, massaging cold fingers into his scalp and winning a delighted gasp from him. “And in my personal one. You’re not sleeping enough, husband.”

He sighs, tilting his head back into her touch and treating her to a view of the corded muscle of his neck. “I just want to be done with this, Katara. I want to be done and then I want to come to bed and curl myself around you and sleep until noon.”

“Maybe if you get a little sleep it’ll be easier to come back to in the morning?” she suggests, walking her fingers down the aching spots in his neck, familiar after so many years of rubbing them. “I know that’s worked in the past.”

He groans softly, hanging his head before nodding gently under the pressure of her ministrations. “Alright. Alright. Katara knows best.”

She offers him her hand as he stands, lets him dip to kiss her gently with his warm palms cupping her cheeks. She bites her cheek to keep from grinning at the way he lets her guide him, drawing him into their room and waiting for her as she shuts the door, letting her undo the ties of his robes and uncover his body, layer by layer. His kisses are cool and sweet, like cherry-berry ice treats at the spring equinox festival, lingering softly on her tongue. She can tell he does not expect anything from her tonight, and that is what excites her most of all.

“Your shoulders must be paining you, darling,” she says, digging her thumbs into the muscle between his scapula and his spine. He groans, head lolling forward to rest against her sternum. “I saw the way you were hunched over those papers.”

“Ah! _Yes_ ,” he groans. “I wouldn’t mind if you spent a little time on my shoulders tonight.”

She can’t hold back her smirk as she steps back from him, stripping away his undertunic and leaving him in his loose silk pants. “Go lay down on the bed. I’ll join you in a moment.”

He does as she asks, and she can hear the bed dipping under his weight as she turns her back to him, shucking off her evening robe to reveal the crimson slip she’d been wearing, bare of her wrappings underneath. She scurries over to join him, calling half a pitcher of water along with her, which she holds aloft as she climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips. 

“Warm this up for me?” she asks, holding the water near his face. 

“Oh, sure,” he rumbles, sticking his hand inside and holding it there until the water starts to gently steam.

“Perfect.” She brings the water back, letting it glove her hands before laying them over his back. With an appreciative eye she traces the contours of his muscles, her touch delicate as she lets the water tell her where the tension concentrates. When she finds a knot she digs in with her bending, drawing out the tension with her healing as she strokes her fingers into his flesh. 

When she releases a particularly stubborn knot, he groans louder and more wanton than he does even when he’s making love to her. Katara shivers with delight to hear it, squirming where she’s perched on his ass. There’s little friction to be had from the way she’s sitting, which serves her well, she decides—she’ll have to be patient with her pleasure if she wants to give him what he needs tonight. And spirits, does she want to give it to him.

She breaks the water into streams, moving it in currents over his back and shoulders until he’s loose and soft beneath her. She moves onto his arms, stroking the water over his triceps, his forearms, lacing rivulets through his fingers. This touch elicits more sighs than groans, but that’s alright—the deeper he sinks into relaxation, the better a job she’ll do.

“Let’s get your legs,” she says, rolling off of him to tug his pants down over his ass. He lifts his hips to help her, and she draws the fabric away slowly, admiring the spectacular cut of his musculature here too. Spirits above, but her husband is a vision. 

The water comes rushing down his legs at her command, and there’s tension to wash away here, too. She moves slowly, carefully, following the warm water with cool fingertips and watching as goosebumps prickle in her wake. She digs her thumbs into his insteps, kneads into his calves and hips; when she’s finished with him he’s breathing deeply on the covers, skin pinked by the warmth of the water. She trails her fingertips up the insides of his thighs, and he shivers.

“Katara,” he groans, pressing back into her touch. “Katara I—I want—”

“I know, darling,” she hums, smoothing her hands over the soft curve of his ass. “I’ve got you.”

He sighs contentedly, and she lets him roll over on his back, looking down at her with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. His cock is already half hard, and she feels it jump against her inner thigh as she ghosts over it with her center, leaning in to give him a slow and simmering kiss.

His hands come up to her waist immediately, stroking her over the silk of her slip. She indulges him for a moment while he deepens the kiss, letting him caress her in the ways he always does when he wants her. When he breaks away to kiss down her jaw, she draws breath to speak.

“I thought we might try something different tonight, if you’re amenable.”

“Mm,” he hums against her skin, licking hot against her pulse point. “What do you have in mind?”

She sits up, leaning back to watch his eyes when she asks. She’s breathless, momentarily, at the sight of him, lips parted and shining, flushed with the warmth of their kiss. She reaches over to her bedside table, plucking out a silken sash and holding it in her hands before him.

“I thought we might tie your hands down, tonight,” she says, gazing into the hot honey gold of his eyes. They widen at her suggestion, and she can feel the hitch in his breath more than she can hear it.

“Oh?” he asks, licking his lips. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I know you, husband,” she begins, taking one of his wrists in her hand and drawing the silk over it, just to let him feel the texture. “And I know that when you’re touching me, you’re always thinking about how you can touch me better. I figure if your hands are tied, you’ll have to focus on what _I’m_ doing to _you_.”

He shivers, and she watches the knot in his throat bob as he swallows. “Okay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to say yes for me,” she insists, leaning in to nuzzle their noses together. “I only want this if you want it.”

“ _I’m sure_ ,” he says, voice husky in his rush.

She can’t help but the smirk that breaks over her face as she loops the silk around his wrists, affixing him to the bedposts with firm knots and gentle tension. “How’s that feel?”

He strains against the bonds for a moment, and she watches the muscles in his arms work as he does. “I’d have to burn my way out,” he announces, breathless and a little giddy.

“Good,” she smiles, sweeping her hair over one shoulder as she leans in to kiss him. “Now the fun can really begin.”

He whines into her mouth, and she can feel him come to full hardness beneath her, nudging at the soft inside of her thighs. She grins against his lips as he strains towards her, shimmying down his body until she’s seated over his legs. He pouts in frustration, but his expression shifts as he watches her twist her wrists, calling another pitcherful of water over to her on the air.

“Warm this up for me too?” she asks, arousal uncurling in the pit of her stomach as his eyes widen with the realization of what she intends. When the water’s steaming, she cascades it over his chest slowly, applying delicate pressure that makes him hiss and whine. She draws whirlpools into his skin where she’d otherwise press kisses, letting her bending sense tell her about the hard planes of his muscles, the velvet softness of his skin.

“Katara,” he gasps, voice ragged as she drags a stream of water along the vee of his hips, letting it lap at his skin the way she would with her tongue. “Katara, _please_.”

And since he asked so nicely, she brings the water down lower, coiling it gently around the base of his cock. He moans as she gathers the water around him, letting it lap up his shaft until he’s fully enveloped, feeling the weight and heat of his cock with her bending. A quirk of her fingers twists the water around him, drawing a current that spirals over him, and when she lets the water flick under the head he lets out a keening groan.

They have experimented with waterbending in the bedroom before, when they were younger, and curious, and nearly insatiable in their desire for one another. It had never become a staple of theirs, but she used it every now and again, when she felt the need to hold him with all her power. It takes a special kind of trust, she thinks, to let her touch him like this, but it’s a trust they’ve never questioned. He has always given it, and she has never doubted it.

“ _Agni,_ Katara, that’s really _really_ good, _fuck_ —”

She rolls a little jet of pressure up and down the underside of his cock, mimicking the things that make him moan when she takes him in her mouth. He whines just like she’d hoped he would, arching into the touch of the water and straining against the silk at his wrists. He lets out a huff of exasperation when she draws back, softening the touch of the water on his skin.

“Fuck, I’ll be good, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll—” he rambles, but she lays a finger on his lips. 

His eyes widen, breath catching as she nudges his legs apart and settles between them, stripping the shift off her body with one hand as she bends the water with the other. Slowly she pulls the water over his hips, drawing it down, down, until it laps gently at the furl of his hole. He gasps, ragged and broken, as she traces him with a kisses’ pressure, even as she continues to bend lazy strokes over his cock. He shudders, pulling his knees up to bracket her, tilting his hips to allow access, and she can hear him swallow between panting breaths, his pulse galloping where it flutters against the water.

“Do you want me to?” she hums, pushing against him ever so softly with the water; he keens in response, nodding brokenly when she hesitates.

“Please, Katara. Please please please _oh_ —” he groans, voice dropping in his chest as she pushes a thin tendril inside him, feeling the tightness of his body as he admits her. She draws more water inside a little at a time, stroking gentle circles inside him, pushing delicately until she finds the place that makes him make a sound he’s never made before. She focuses her attention there, glancing up at his face to gauge his reaction. 

He’s pink from the chest up, head lolling against his shoulder, arms gone slack in his bindings. His lashes flutter over his cheeks, hair sticking to the sweat that shimmers on his skin, and his chest heaves with his breathing, his muscles jumping with the effort.

She feels a rush of arousal flood her to look at him, to feel him shuddering around her like this; it gives her an idea, but she’s going to need more water.

“Sweetheart,” she says, surprised by the husk in her voice, and his eyes snap open, glassy and dazed despite his alarm. “Would you mind warming this up for me too?”

He turns to look at the water hovering around his hand and warms it as she asks, eyes flicking back and forth between the water and her hands, fingers straining a little with the effort of keeping three separate streams of water under control.

“Good,” she whispers. “Now. Eyes on me.”

Holding his gaze, she calls the fresh water down to his thighs, easing more of it inside him until he whines, filled. She finds a rhythm with the water inside him, a simple push and pull like the tides, making sure she rolls the water back and forth over the spot that makes him keen and swear, and she watches him fight to keep his eyes open. She can feel his cock throbbing in the water she holds over him, though she’s barely touching him there, urging the currents along just enough to keep him going without letting him go over the edge. 

She shifts up onto her knees, making sure he’s watching her as she pulls the remainder of the newly-warmed water against her center, gasping as she swirls it against herself. Truthfully she’s doing too much to focus on her own pleasure, but he lets out a broken whine when he realizes what she’s doing, straining in his bonds to get a better look.

“Katara,” he pleads. “Katara, please. Let me feel you. Can’t come until I feel you, _please_...”

She bites her lip, watching his face as he begs for her, and her heart clenches, unable to deny either of them the other any longer. 

It takes some shuffling to get her legs over his hips while keeping most of the water where she wants it, but when she finally sinks down onto his cock he tosses his head back and moans, drawing her attention to the long lines of his neck. She curls her body over his to place her lips there, holding the water still inside him and relishing the way his cock stretches her, squirming a little to adjust to the feeling.

When she finally, _finally_ rocks her hips back against his, she pushes the water inside him, curling against that spot like a tongue. His whole body shudders as he whispers a curse, fisting his hands in his restraints as he squeezes his eyes shut, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I didn’t say you could stop looking,” she chides, stilling her movements again; his eyes shoot open as he strains to obey, and she thinks she sees the barest wisps of smoke curling from his mouth.

“If I keep looking, I’m not going to last,” he warns, shivering as she clenches her walls around him. “Not when you’re in top form like this.”

“Mm, well, we can’t have that, can we?” she hums, sitting back on his hips and stilling her movements, keeping the water rocking gently inside him. He groans softly, biting his lips again as he drags his eyes down her body, and when she feels his eyes on her she swirls the water over her clit again, crying out in relief at her neglected pleasure.

“Yes, Katara,” he says, gravel in his voice. “Yes, Agni, wanna feel you, want you to come around me, want to come with you, darling, _please_ …”

She loses herself in the lap of the water against her, the next best thing after his tongue; maybe next time she’ll straddle his face and take him in her mouth when she bends the water inside him. The thought is enough to tip her over, in chorus with his babbling praise and the rake of his eyes and the strain of his cock inside her. 

Even as she shudders apart around him, she rocks the water inside him more purposefully, drawing out her orgasm while hastening his. He bucks against her, arching off the bed and grinding against that spot inside her that makes her body jolt with pleasure; she draws tight circles inside him in retaliation, and he shivers, straining so hard against his restraints that the bedframe groans.

“Oh fuck, Katara, Katara, yes yes _yes_ —”

She holds still as the first wave crashes over him, the strong pulse of his cock fluttering inside her in an echo of her own orgasm; she doesn’t move until he cries out again, swiveling her hips gently, lapping the water back and forth inside him with the barest pressure as he rides it out. When he shudders into the mattress, sighing and whimpering with his eyes drifting closed, she pulls the water out of him, bending any residual wetness out of the sheets and tossing it all out the window into the garden beyond.

She leans forward to work free the knots binding his wrists, kissing his searing palms before she lets him settle them on her waist. Only after he’s gone soft does she let him slide out of her, calling more water over to clean them up before she collapses against him, pillowing her head on his chest.

“I thought you said I needed sleep,” he slurs, petting her hair clumsily away from her face.

“And you do,” she insists. “I just also thought that you could use some stress relief of another kind, first.”

He chuckles, and she feels it rumbling in his chest, followed by a deep and contented sigh.

“Well, far be it from me to argue with you,” he mutters, turning his face to press a kiss to her forehead. “Katara knows best.”

In moments he’s breathing the deep, even breaths of sleep, arm curled securely around her waist. She smiles softly, losing herself in the rhythm of his breath as she lets her eyes drift shut, surfing the contentment of the afterglow and letting it carry her off into her dreams.

And when he wakes her in the morning, pressing kisses into her skin in the gray predawn, she doesn’t have to guess that he’s feeling better.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I did it. I wrote something under 5,000 words. Someone call the Times.  
> Thanks for reading, friends! If you liked it, I'd love it if you dropped me a comment! I cherish every single one. ;)


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